


all this devotion

by foxwins



Category: Now You See Me (Movies)
Genre: F/M, Feelings, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Post-Finale, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-29
Updated: 2017-01-29
Packaged: 2018-09-20 13:46:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,834
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9494123
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/foxwins/pseuds/foxwins
Summary: Jack's trying to ignore the way his stomach flips when he thinks her name, but that's hard when her hand catches his playfully when they come to a halt. She's probably stealing something of his. He doesn't care. // post-finale drabbles on everybody's favorite pickpockets





	

**Author's Note:**

> work title from 'never let me go' by florence and the machine, chapter title from 'clouds' by borns.

He had just come back from the dead, helped pull off one of the biggest magical stunts ever attempted, and was on the run from the FBI (again), but somehow the only thing that matters to Jack Wilder at this precise moment was the way that Lula twists back to look at him as they run towards their escape vehicle, flashing a red-lipped grin that turns his chest into Jell-O.

Jack's trying to ignore the way his stomach flips when he thinks her name, but that's hard when her hand catches his playfully when they come to a halt. She's probably stealing something of his. He doesn't care.

"Get in the car, lovebirds," Merritt calls, opening the door of the SUV. Gesturing for Lula to enter, Jack proffers his hand to help her into the car. She takes it, leaving something small and hard in his palm as she steps up. He unfolds his hand to look. The dinner mint that he'd had in his pocket earlier stares up at him, red-white as a playing card through the cellophane. Jack can't help the chuckle that huffs out of him at the sight.

Merritt deftly snaps it out of his hand and tosses it over his shoulder. "That means you too, loverboy." He smacks Jack's ass as the younger man climbs into the car. "And keep your hands to yourself!"

Lula's waiting in the back row of seats for him, grinning like a madwoman. She tosses her legs over his lap as he sits down, forcing him to run his hands under her thighs in order to buckle his seatbelt. He gives her a pinch on the underside of her knee for her troubles. She barely flinches. The car starts, pulling out into the darkened street and heads toward the safe house.

"Did you see the look on Tressler's face? Oh man, that's probably the best thing I've ever seen. Wait, no, I take that back. The look on that idiot son of his was better." Lula's babbling about their recent escapades, her fingers fidgeting and opposing restlessly. It's typical pickpocket stuff, really, but Jack doesn't think that's why she's doing it. He thinks it's because she's nervous. She wasn't nervous when she told him to picture her naked, or when she stole his belt (and knowing Lula, probably took his inseam measurements while she was at it), or when she grabbed his face and kissed him on the Thames. But she's nervous now.

He thinks, at least. For all of his recently acquired mentalist training, Jack still can't quite read her.

"… no, wait, it was when Merritt nut tapped that asshole brother of his. That was-- actually, now that I think about it…" Her fingers flash, touching her thumb to each of her other digits in turn and then back down, like a crescendo that can't quite decide where it wants to end.

She's making his fingers itch. So Jack takes one hand and slides it onto her thigh, thumb circling on the soft denim. Lula sends him a sharp look, and Jack suddenly wonders if he's gone too far. But then the corner of her mouth lifts and she covers his hand with her own, callouses catching on the ridge of his knuckles.

 _She's so beautiful_ , he thinks, legitimately baffled by the adoration that's blossoming in his chest. Beautiful and funny and brazen and sticky-fingered and _this sex is gonna be so fucking good._

The car jolts over a pothole and jars his hand dangerously far along the seam of her legs for a brief, terrifying moment before he can snatch it back to a safe distance, half expecting to feel her open palm connecting with his cheek. Lula just keeps smiling-- _god, is everything he does just an amusing blunder to her?_ \-- and squeezes his hand.

"Please, Jack," she practically purrs, resting her chin in the palm of her unoccupied hand and obviously enjoying his consternation. "Plenty of time for that when we're not in such mixed company."

Of all people, Atlas is the one to interject from his position besides the driver's seat. "You'd think that pulling off one of the biggest magic tricks in history would grant us a respite from you two making sex eyes at each other non-stop, but apparently there's no rest for the wicked."

Dylan snorts, eyes trained on the dark road. "You probably guessed the 'no rest' part right." The wheel shifts in his hands as he pulls sharply into a garage and parks the car. The Horsemen start to file out, with Lula gesturing magnanimously to let Jack out in front of her. He does, and once again offers his arm when it's her turn to get out. She takes it with an exaggerated nod of her head. He's expecting the already familiar warmth of her hand in his, so he's surprised when the cold bite of metal and leather presses into his hand. It's his belt. Of course it is.

"Forgot this in the car, Jackie," Lula says in a singsong voice. She grabs his hand and practically drags him in a beeline for the stairs to their rooms. "Don't bother putting it back on." The remaining three Horsemen make a variety of gagging noises. Jack can't do much but shrug and grin in their direction as he enters the stairwell, feeling entirely unrepentant for their disgust.

"Be safe, kids," Dylan calls after them.

When the door to her room slams shut she lets go of his hand and backs up a few steps so she's just out of reach.

"I know I've pretty much been holding up a sign that says LET'S FUCK for the past month or whatever but we don't have to do this is you don't want to, you know?" Her fingers suddenly produce a fidget ring from nowhere and begin spinning the disc. "Like, don't get me wrong, I'm still one-hundred-and-ten percent willing to bang until one of us breaks something but like if you don't want to we're cool--" She's cut off by his mouth as he strides toward her to kiss her breathless.

He rests his forehead against hers when they break apart, lungs heaving for air. "You talk this much during sex?"

The uncertainty on her face slips away into a smile and something that looks curiously like relief. "I guess you'll just have to keep me busy, huh?" Jack's hand tightens from its place on her waist, making her inhale sharply as he seams the line of their hips together.

"I'll do my best."

 

* * *

 

It's three o'clock in the afternoon the following day when Merritt finally sees Lula again. She's leaning on the kitchenette counter, picking apart a poppyseed muffin. Jack's nowhere in sight. He quirks his eyebrow at her.

"Might I inquire as to where our dear Jack is? Assuming he hasn't transcended into an astral plane of pleasure and debauchery."

Lula doesn't even look at Merritt as she flicks a chunk of muffin towards him, the baked good landing just north of his left eye. Popping the rest of it in her mouth, she shrugs with a palpably false innocence. "He's sleeping. Can't blame the boy." She shifts to face Merritt, looking very much like a cat in the cream. "He did put forth a pretty monumental effort. Herculean, one might even call it. You know, if you glitzed him up a bit he could be performing a whole different kinda show in Vegas."

The older man heaves an exaggerated sigh. "You know, you could probably make a killing selling the naughty secrets on the internet. Jackie's got a whole coven of girls screaming about what it'd be like to get reamed by him, and I'm tired of it. I mean," he says, gesturing expansively towards himself, "obviously I'm the classic male sex symbol of the group."

Lula rolls her eyes and basketball-throws the muffin wrapper into a trashcan. "If you don't want to hear screaming, Merritt," she snarks as she walks (slightly gingerly, if Merritt has any expertise in the matter, and he does) back towards her room. "You should invest in some earplugs."

 

* * *

 

Lula knows that Jack's a light sleeper- _comes with the territory of a childhood spent ducking cops_ , he related to her once, easy grin not quite reaching his eyes. But it takes him a minute to open his eyes after she flops back down next to him, blinking blearily in the half-light of afternoon through cloth blinds.

"Hey," he says softly, voice made husky with sleep. Shifting so that he can toss an arm over her, he lips peaceably at her neck.

"Hey yourself," she replies softly, brushing her fingers through his hair. It's messy and tangled, and catches on her fingers as she runs them through. A small hum escapes her as Jack presses his tongue to a bruise he'd sucked onto her skin just above her collarbone the night before. At her reaction, he nuzzles deeper into the crook of her neck. Lula gives his hair a sharp tug in admonishment. "Down, boy. Haven't I worn you out enough already?"

" 'pparently not," he mumbles. But his head shifts to the side anyways, so his cheek is resting on her chest. "M' sleepy."

"Then go to sleep," she chides. Jack gives her a sulky glance through those ridiculous lashes of his, a pouty look  in his soft brown eyes. "Oh, shut it. I'll be here when you wake up."

He cocks a thick brow at her. "You will?"

She wonders why he's even bothering to ask- of course she will, they all will, they're laying low for a few days until the paparazzi hunt blows over, until she realizes he doesn't mean here in the safe house, he means here in bed with him. It would easy enough to pass it off as a one-night stand. If she told him _no, sorry, we're only gonna have sex after we expose two crooked millionaires at midnight on the Thames and I'm pretty sure that was a one-time deal_ , he'd shrug it off. Jack's probably just as unused to girls staying with him as she is to staying with guys. But Lula can't help but think that she'd really love to tumble him again, and more than that she'd love to see that soft dumb look he gets on his face whenever she steals his stuff, like he's found something he never thought he would find. So she gives his cheek a pat, feeling a little like she's reassuring a spooked dog. "Sure I am." He watches her for a fraught moment, then lets his neck relax and his eyes flutter shut.

Lula's stares at the ceiling for a few moments, and decides that as long as she's gonna have a warm body in her bed on the reg, she might as well take advantage of the fact that she can press her cold toes to it in her sleep.

To his credit, Jack only jumps a little.

**Author's Note:**

> jack and lula are dumb babies and i love them and there are painfully few fics about them?? so here have this. also check my pin board for them: https://www.pinterest.com/ladynymerias/ship-all-this-devotion/


End file.
